


Side by Side, Under the Mojave Sky

by LostMyWit



Series: Arijon short fics [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fallout, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Character Study, Crossover, Desert, F/M, Kinda, Mercenaries, Mojave Wasteland (Fallout), if that’s a thing, more like odd-jobers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:12:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMyWit/pseuds/LostMyWit
Summary: In which Arianne and Jon carve out a living, day by day, as they wander through the wasteland.





	Side by Side, Under the Mojave Sky

**Author's Note:**

> No real plot, but I liked writing this. Hope it satisfies.

They had a good dynamic, he and her, her and he.

The most obvious sign of it was in their work. She had her skills, he had his, and they complimented each other nicely. They were able to get a lot done.

  
Jon was the hunter.

He’d been a ranger once, for the NCR. He still wore the duster, but he had no more need for the amor. Too heavy for out in the desert, moving the way they did.

He was a marksman. He could shoot the wings off an insect with his ancient bolt action. His sharp grey eyes would scan the desert for threats, and then he would calmly crouch down as he unslung his beast of iron and wood, then send his beast of flesh and bone to retrieve the meat.

He wasn’t real sure what kind of dog Ghost was, only that he’d never seen another like him. He was so rare, he became part of the legend that surrounded them, the Grey Eyed Gun and the Snake Charmer, with their white wolf.

He didn’t know what kind of rifle it was either, who had made it and such. Parts had been replaced and adjusted so many times, it didn’t really matter anymore. All that mattered was that he could still use it to land a shot further away than most people could see.

People were willing to pay nicely for a shot like that. Jon obliged.

  
Arianne did the talking. And a few other things.

She could convince anyone to do anything. Usually it was getting a better price for something or other, but she could also talk feelings into people. Sometimes, they were allowed to say just because she was such good conversation.

Her other skills were more obscure, and included making poisons and antidotes from snake venom, gambling and card games, and knowledge of the local flora and fauna.

They made good money off that, too. The mojave had no shortage of snake bites and suckers. Arianne didn’t disappoint them.

  
He wasn’t a native to the area like she was. He was from somewhere to the north. He never said where exactly, how far it was or what it used to be called, because he wasn’t really sure himself.

He understood the desert, though, because he’d lived in wastelands and wildernesses all his life, and some things were constant. Law of the jungle and such, even if was a different kind jungle than kind he’d grown up in.

He hadn’t been born there, but he was in tune with the creatures of the desert, even if he didn’t know all their names like she did. He could track them, learn from them. He knew what they would do before they did. It sometimes worked with people, too. People, after all, were just another kind of animal. They just didn’t always follow the laws.

  
Arianne had grown up in New Vegas, where she’d learned to play cards and men. It had been where she’d learned to talk, were she’d learned just how far a smile and some carefully picked words could get her.

Of course, as far as a smile got you, a smile and gun got you further. By the time she was ten, her best friend was the Colt .45 that she kept on her person at all times. She couldn’t use it like it was an extension of herself like Jon could with his rifle, but she didn’t need too. It’s main job was to do the talking she couldn’t do.

She’d been sixteen or seventeen when she’d left New Vegas, tagging along with her uncle and his daughters. She’d learned from them, picking up the skills that would help her survive and thrive in the desert.

  
They’d met by accident. At least, Jon called it that. Arianne prefered to think of it as fate.

They’d been picked up by the same band of slavers from Caesar's legion, then proceeded to show them that they had picked a fight with wrong wastelanders. They’d been together ever since.

  
Most days were spent walking under the sun, most nights sleeping under the stars.

They had a routine, for nights without a roof.

First, Jon would pick a campsite and send Ghost off to hunt. He might set up a few snares if they were in a good spot. Arianne would find edible plants and tap cacti for water as Jon started the fire. Then, as Arianne wrote in her little brown book or read whatever battered piece of literature she had most recently traded for, Jon would go over their gear.

Every night, he checked the emergency bullets, the two in his boot, the two in the lining of his duster, the two in the butt of his rifle. He hadn’t used to carry them in pairs.

Arianne wanted to write. She wanted to leave behind something that would last, that would burn brighter and longer than a single life could. She wrote on scraps of paper bound by twine. Sometimes, she would read Jon what she wrote. He couldn’t read, and attempts to teach him had met dead ends, but he always listened, no matter how tired he was or how bizarre her thoughts. She loved him for that.

Then, when it became too dark to work and read, even by the light of the fire, they would curl up on the bedroll, under the brightly colored and intricately patterned blanket, and make love under the night sky.

They were careful. They didn’t want to have to bring a child into that life. But after each time, they made an unspoken promise. One day, they didn’t know when, they would find stable enough ground to make a family. One day.

  
Until then, it was life in the moment. They would walk from town to town, using favors to pay for food and supplies, and, when they were feeling fancy, a bed with a roof over it.

They did all sorts of odd jobs. Jon was often sent out to hunt some particularly dangerous local predator that had been causing trouble, while Arianne mixed medicines. Between them, they had picked up enough basic mechanical skills to do repair jobs, and Jon was a halfway decent doctor. He’d spent a lot of time fixing up wounds. Mostly his own.

It was a hard life, and not always a particularly rewarding one, but they had picked it. Sometimes, they were asked questions, like why they never found a home. They gave the standard answers, like that they didn’t have the resources to start from scratch, didn’t feeling like living in a town, they wanted to keep looking for Arianne’s family, and maybe even Jon’s. Those weren’t the real reasons. They weren’t lies, but their motivations was more complicated, yet also more simple.

They had already found their home. For them, home was being side by side, under the Mojave sky

**Author's Note:**

> I will definatly come back to this. As soon as I figure out what to do. I love desert settings, and post-apocalyptic settings, so this was fun to write and brainstorm. Another similar full length fic not too different from this one is in the works right now, and so is another short.
> 
> Thoughts on the new types of stories? What do you think Ari and Jon should do in the wasteland?
> 
> Preview for the next short-  
> “I mean, you could try it, but it wouldn’t lead to the type of change you’re talking about. Besides, you’re already sexy the way you are.”
> 
> Feedback always appreciated, and thanks for reading!


End file.
